The Night Calls Again
by peridotaurora
Summary: When someone near and dear to them is arrested for a crime he didn't commit, Lieutenant Squall Leonhart and Rinoa Heartilly are forced to delve deep into the twisted legal system, into a realm of corruption and indifference. Sequel to The Force.
1. Chapter 1

Well, it's me again. I'm not sure exactly what drove me to do a sequel for The Force, only that the idea came to me when I was taking a shower. Strange, but exciting.

Enjoy. It's still AU, might be slightly OOC, and carries on right where The Force left off. Speaking of which, reading The Force, if you haven't already, is highly recommended in order to fully understand this story.

**Disclaimer: **Any characters that are not involved in the Final Fantasy series belong to me. Otherwise, every other character belongs to Square Enix and Square Enix alone.

**Chapter Warnings**: It's still potty-mouth-a-rific.

* * *

_Any community's arm of force – military, police, security – needs people in it who can do necessary evil, and yet not be made evil by it. To do only the necessary and no more. To constantly question the assumptions, to stop the slide into atrocity. _

-Lois McMaster Bujold

* * *

**The Night Calls Again**

**Chapter One**

Nearly all of the crimes he had ever come across had happened at night. It wasn't that hard to understand, if you were a murder detective. Night gave the illusion that dark deeds could be forever hidden from the eyes of justice. When the sun went down, the creatures of night slithered up, ready to take the risk, ready to take the fall.

Squall Leonhart, fresh from more than a month of suspension, was ready to face the night again.

Crime had slowed almost to a standstill in Balamb, which was almost unheard of in Squall's department. It was the reason why the best homicide detective in the city was relegated to dealing with petty crimes and accidents that resolved in death.

"This is ridiculous," Squall growled, throwing a file down on his cluttered desk. "Someone drowns in their neighbor's swimming pool and the station gives it to me. I'm a goddamn _murder_ cop." He ended his tirade by angrily blowing strands of poorly-cut brown hair out of his eyes.

His partner and girlfriend, Rinoa Heartilly, seemed to find this enormously funny. "Well," she said, tipping her head and nodding diplomatically. "Somebody died. And they're not exactly paying us to sit on our asses, right?"

Squall was unconvinced. "And what about last week? The guy _jumped_ off a bridge, and we get called in. Where's the mystery in that? The bastard decided he wanted out and that he'd rather eat pavement. Simple as that. And yet we get to waste our time doing shit like this when things are actually _happening_…"

Rinoa inspected her nails as Squall angrily ranted on. "Well, it's a bureaucratic conspiracy, _of course_," she droned in a voice that she thought sounded exactly like Squall.

He stopped pacing around the room and made a face at her. "You know I hate it when you do that," he accused. He was in a combative mood today.

"Do _what_?" she shot back at him, still using the same absurd voice. She couldn't quite keep the silly grin off her face, though.

"_That_," he said, pointing at her. "Using the stupid voice. I do _not _sound like that, and you know it."

"What_ever_," she teased, spouting off Squall's most overused expression.

"Oh, ha ha, you're a real riot…"

There was a light cough by the doorframe. Quistis Trepe, Chief of Police, was politely poised at the door, flawless black suit and all. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said, with a touch of distaste. She had never really approved of the relationship between Squall and Rinoa, but had granted the partnership with reluctance.

Squall swiveled around, without missing a beat. "Read the badge, Quistis," Squall demanded, pulling his badge out of his pocket and practically shoving it in her face. "It says 'Homicide,' not 'Dumbasses Who Screw Up and Die.' What the hell is up with these cases you've been giving me?"

Quistis raised a shoulder, indicating that she didn't much care for his predicament. She was used to Squall harassing her, as they had worked together for nearly ten years. "And good afternoon to you too, Lieutenant," she said dryly. "I can only assume it's been one of those days."

Rinoa giggled. Squall shoved his left hand through his hair and forced his badge back into his pocket. "To say the least," he retorted.

"Well, he _has_ got a point," Rinoa pointed out. "I mean, I'm starting to think you don't like us, Quistis."

Quistis put one hand on her hip and frowned at the ceiling. "You know, I really miss those days when those of a lesser rank would respect me. When they treated me like a Chief."

"Yeah, those were good times. It's a damn shame." Squall was unable to suppress a smirk.

Rinoa shook her head at him and looked at Quistis. "If it helps, the amount of sarcasm he uses is directly proportional to his mood," she offered, earning a scowl from Squall.

"Small mercy," Quistis remarked. "But I'm not here to fight with you, Lieutenant. You've got a new case. The vice President's daughter was murdered barely two hours ago, and you're primary, since Seifer's got his hands full."

"This is more like it," Squall murmured. "Wait…did you say vice President?"

Quistis nodded. "This case is going to be a media circus. As usual, you are to have no cooperation with them. Nothing gets out, understand?"

Squall sighed. "Great. A media free-for-all. What did I ever do to you, Quistis?"

Quistis turned to leave, casting him a grim glance. "Believe me, Lieutenant, this is a case that you'll want to take."

* * *

The murder of 21-year old Alana Dooley had taken place in her hotel room at The Balamb Regent. Now her black curls were splayed out across the cheap hotel coverlet as she lay in a dark pool of her blood. 

Squall lifted Alana's lifeless hand up and noticed the raw chafing around the wrist. "She was bound," he observed. "With rope, it looks like, and then probably untied after she died."

He dropped her hand and continued his intense survey of the body. "Gunshot wound in the lower abdomen," he continued, circling the perimeter of the wound with two fingers. "The placement was most likely deliberate. And why's that, Heartilly?" Even though Rinoa had already graduated to detective, Squall still liked to test her now and then.

Rinoa pursed her lips and tried to ignore her slight nausea. "Well, to draw it out, I suppose. A slow death, and painful too. She would have bled out."

"Good," he affirmed, nodding. "She must have been gagged with something; she would have been screaming her lungs out. It would have been impossible for someone not to have heard her."

"Maybe she was unconscious," Rinoa offered.

Squall considered it for a moment and shook his head. "That's not what the killer wanted. He wanted her awake – and aware."

Rinoa winced and rubbed her own stomach subconsciously.

Squall stepped back and started giving orders to the uniformed officers who were at the scene. "I want this place swept. You find anything; you either give it to me, or Fujin in Forensics." He motioned for Rinoa to follow him and exited out into the hall.

"Kadowaki's not going to like that one," he muttered, referring to the Chief Medical Examiner at the morgue.

Rinoa turned around and got one last look at the body. "Why?"

He frowned and said, "That girl in there looks a hell of a lot like her daughter." He nodded in greeting as Zell Dincht, a fellow Homicide detective, approached them with a tape in hand.

Zell waved the tape excitedly. "No need for the big guns here. We've already got a suspect."

Rinoa's eyebrows rocketed up to her hairline. "Seriously? Wow, I think we've just hit the record for fastest investigation, Squall," she said, smiling.

"You know better, Heartilly," he reprimanded lightly. He held a hand out for the tape. "You get a good look at the suspect, Dincht?"

Zell nodded, handing the tape over. "You bet. This tape is from an elevator security cam. The suspect came in at 10:25, and never came back down. That's the only elevator on that floor, and the stairs are monitored too, so we're pretty much sure he's the one. We got a name and everything."

"Oh yeah?" Squall asked lightly, weighing the tape in his hand. "Tell me about him."

Zell stared at the ceiling while recalling the facts, as if the speckled ceiling would yield the required answers. "White male, age 38. Name…name…"

Squall rolled his eyes. "Dincht, it's not illegal to bring the file along with you. Find the name and bring me the file, and make it fast."

As Squall turned around, Zell suddenly shouted. "Wait, wait, I remember it now!"

Squall turned around disgustedly. "Do you really, or are you just making it up to placate me?"

"No, I really remember it. His name's MacGill. Ian MacGill."

* * *

"Son of a bitch, that _is _him," Squall swore furiously as he watched the image of his longtime friend amble out of the elevator. "What the hell is he doing in the Regent?" 

"Definitely not his style," Rinoa agreed. She fast-forwarded the tape, watching other hotel guests zip in and out of the elevator at top speed. "Zell was right, he never comes back in the elevator. He probably used the stairs, we'll have to get _that_ tape…"

At that moment, Seifer Almasy sauntered up and dropped a file in Squall's lap. "Here's your suspect. He's in custody now. Got a heavy record, former gang activity. We got another Ring member, so it looks like we hit the mark." For once, his voice was lacking a trace of sour sarcasm. He was all business.

"_Former_ Ring member," Squall shot back, a little more emphatic than he had intended. He cleared his throat and composed himself. "He deserted 19 years ago."

Seifer narrowed his eyes. "You know him."

Squall didn't betray any of his unease. "I know him. He showed significant cooperation during the Doyle case."

Seifer studied the frozen image on the television screen and raised an incredulous eyebrow. "He's your friend. I recognize that guy's face. He's your _friend_."

Squall neither confirmed nor denied this, and pretended to be very interested in ejecting the security tape from the player. "I could've sworn that Quistis said you were busy. I knew she couldn't have been serious, though, it is _you_, after all…"

Seifer snorted. "Good Christ, Leonhart with friends. There must be glaciers forming in Hell right now. Oh, and by the way, I just closed a case, so we're officially…sharing this one until further notice." He wrinkled his nose, openly disgusted at the prospect of sharing a case with the bane of his existence.

"Well, you can forget it. It's mine," Squall said without turning to face Seifer.

"What makes you think I even want it?"

Rinoa rolled her eyes and stepped between the two. "You guys just can't breathe the same air without fighting, can you?" she said exasperatedly. "Look, let's take this case and try to avoid killing each other, alright?"

Seifer shook his head, sneering. "Squally here's got a conflict of interest. Quistis is going to flip."

"You don't even _want _this case," Squall said disgustedly.

"I don't. But it's better than you having it. You know how much press this case is going to get without you fucking it up?"

Squall stepped around Rinoa and approached Seifer, eyes blazing. "Almasy, this is the last time I'm telling you to step off. I'm not even close to kidding."

Seifer let out a low whistle. "Haven't even gotten the body back from Examination and you're already too involved. Great start so far, Leonhart." He gave Squall a slap on the shoulder that was too forceful to be friendly. He started to leave. "Your guy's at Balamb General, by the way."

"Why?"

"Why do you think? Detoxing. The guy's BAL was off the charts, and he had more drugs in him than a pharmacy does."

Squall rubbed his face with one hand, silently cursing the circumstances. "Great," he grumbled.

"The public defender's there now, but she's probably not going to get much sense out of him. You'll have the Vice President to answer to soon enough," Seifer called over his shoulder.

Rinoa frowned and turned to her partner. "You know, now that we've actually got a real case, I'm suddenly not so excited anymore."

"I stopped being excited a long time ago," he muttered under his breath. "Let's head out, Heartilly. It's going to be a long night."

* * *

The hallway where Ian MacGill resided in Balamb General Hospital echoed with wails and obscenities from junkies who were getting the toxins painfully flushed from their bodies. A frazzled white-haired lawyer was leaning against the wall outside room 354, Ian's room. 

Her hazel eyes re-focused when she saw Squall and Rinoa. "You wouldn't be Lieutenant Leonhart, by any chance?"

"Yeah, that's me. Has he been…asking for me?" he said carefully. This woman looked like she had reached her last nerve.

"It's the only thing he'll say to me!" the lawyer exclaimed, scandalized. "I've been trying to talk to him for over an hour, but he got one look at the handcuffs and clammed up. Said that he wouldn't say a word until Lieutenant Leonhart showed up. Wouldn't give an inch."

"That's weird," Squall murmured to himself. People usually had trouble getting Ian to shut up. "Wait here, Heartilly, I'm going in."

A beefy security guard unlocked the door and opened it. In the bed, in all his tattooed, purple-haired glory, was Ian MacGill.

When he saw Squall, Ian's eyes widened to show the extent of his relief. "Man, about _time _you showed up. Squall, you have to get me out of here. I don't belong here, this place is _whacked_. The cops broke my arm and they don't give me shit for it. I need something. I have to…you have to--" Ian's breath was coming hard and fast.

Squall cut him off by grabbing him by the shoulders. "Stop. You need to breathe. Detox is hard enough without a panic attack added in there." He stepped back and got a look at his ailing friend in the bed. He shook his head. "God, you look like hell."

MacGill's skin was waxy and pale, his lips white. His breathing was labored and sweat steadily beaded on his forehead, matting his vibrant hair down. The veins that wound around his arms were black and blue, showing years of abuse. His left wrist was handcuffed to the side of the hospital bed, and the other one was encased in plaster. He shook his head slowly like a dog trying to get water out of its ears. "I _feel _like hell, man, I'm dyin', I swear. You have to get me out. You have to get me out!" he panicked.

"Ian. You need to talk to me first. I need to know what went down tonight, 9-11 PM."

"That's the thing, I don't remember."

Ian quaked slightly when he saw the furious look on Squall's face. "Ian, don't you _dare_ lie to me. You are way too far up shit creek to lie now, _tell the truth,_" he snarled.

MacGill responded with an equally vicious look. "_I don't remember_."

"You might be able to trick the lawyer, but you can't get by me that easily. I don't care what the hell you were doing, just tell me what it was," Squall demanded. "Damn it, Ian, don't you _know _that you've been arrested for murder?"  
Ian sat back and his skin paled a few more shades. "…Murder?" he rasped.

"Why else would an army of cops kick down your door in the middle of the night?"

Ian slumped back. "I thought they knew about…"

Squall closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have drug paraphernalia on your property, don't you, MacGill?" he asked wearily.

"Um…"

"Forget about it, I don't think I want to know. The cops who arrested you didn't tell you your charges?"

Ian shook his head fiercely. "No. They broke my fucking arm before they took me in."

Squall grumbled. "Brutality _and _imbecility. Fantastic. Well, Ian MacGill, you're officially suspected of the murder of Alana Dooley, who happened to be Ted Dooley's daughter."

Ian furrowed his brow. "Who?"

"Vice President. Big-deal politician," Squall supplied, almost smiling at MacGill's ignorance.

Ian frowned and shook his head again. "Yeah, I wouldn't know about that. But seriously, I never laid a hand on Alana whatever."

"I thought you didn't remember."

"I would remember something like that. I mean, I would _remember _if I killed someone," Ian insisted.

"Ian, just what were you on tonight?"

"Well, a bunch of stuff, really. I mean, you want all of it?" Ian asked sheepishly.

Squall pinched the bridge of his nose even harder. "Fuck. Yeah, let's hear it all. Maybe if this goes to trial, we can plead _temporary insanity_…"

Ian ignored the dig and launched off on a rambling list of all the substances he had poured into his system over the last 24 hours. It took, Squall noted wryly, about two and a half minutes. "…Anything else?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Ian thought hard, and shook his head. "Nah, I think that's about it."

"God, you trying to land a place in the Overdose Hall of Fame?" Squall said disgustedly. "You'll be here for like, a month."

"Yeah, well, if it keeps me out of jail…" Ian said boldly.

Squall glared at him. "You really think this is better than jail? Handcuffed to a bed, people shoving pills down your throat?" he demanded, his voice almost reaching a yell. He stopped himself and shook his head. "Shit, man, what happened? You've never screwed up like this before."

Ian shrugged miserably. "I really wish I remembered. Because, man…if I gotta be in jail, I wanna be in jail for something that I actually did."

"Well, that's a given."

"That's why you need to get me outta this, Leonhart. Please. You're the best cop I know, the best cop there is. Please."

It was the "please" that got him. For that instant, Ian had sounded like a man who had never overdosed on anything, who had never committed any crimes. His voice made him seem like someone else.

"It won't be easy. Clearing your name," Squall said softly. He raked a hand roughly through his hair. "Alright. Alright, I'm in. But I can't do this by myself, you have to help me."

Ian seemed to immediately brighten up. "Damn right I will, you can count on me, bro."

Squall felt slightly sickened with guilt. The look that MacGill was giving him now was akin to that of an adoring child gazing upon his hero. To MacGill, Squall was the hero of police, the relentless justice-chaser who never missed a step.

What would happen when he found out that his impression of Squall was only half-right?

"Right. Well. I'll be checking in," Squall said lamely.

"Cool. It's not like I'll be going anywhere anytime soon."

* * *

Rinoa tactfully waited until they were home to say anything. After Squall had taken a punishingly hot shower, she sat like a stone at the vanity mirror. "Is…he alibied?" she croaked. 

"Says he doesn't remember," Squall murmured as he toweled off his hair. "He's been charged for murder and doesn't remember a damn thing." He threw the towel over the back of a chair, his face set in dreadfully tight lines.

She reached out and put a hand on his wrist. "This bothers you."

"Of course it bothers me, my friend might have killed somebody," he snapped, then immediately sighed when she pulled away in hurt. "Fuck. Sorry. Look…I just realized today that he's been my friend for God knows how long, and I don't know a thing about him. I don't know what he does, I don't know about his family. I didn't even know how old he was, not until today. It should make things better, but it just looks like it's going to get harder."

"We'll get him out of this. If anybody can, we can. We just need to play it the right way," she assured him.

He rubbed his face agitatedly. "But that's the thing. He might've actually done it, and we have no way of knowing."

"Well, we find the _real _killer, of course. We clear his name. Hey, it means we're back in the game, right?" she teased, trying to playfully lighten the mood.

He could feel the familiar sensation of a brand new case fizzing in his gut. "Yeah. Back in the game."

* * *

Later, 

peridotaurora


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Warning**: Swearing, and some fooling around in the shower. Again, though, I'm not at all explicit.

* * *

**The Night Calls Again**

**Chapter Two**

Out of all the pointless games there were to play in the field of law enforcement, Squall hated politics the most. To him, speaking to a politician was almost like talking to a smooth-talking parrot.

Ronald Dooley proved to be no exception. Squall noted wryly that the vice president _did _somewhat resemble a tropical bird, with his large beaky nose, beady eyes, and the interesting purple flush that colored his face when he was enraged.

"The villain who committed this horrendous crime will be brought to justice if it's the last thing I do!" Dooley roared to a crowd of reporters and photographers who had gathered for the vice president's public statement. "I am dedicated to the punishment of those who murder the innocent, not just the murderer of my daughter. This miscreant will be made an example of."

"This is our guy, huh?" Rinoa said, nose wrinkling slightly with distaste. "Look's like _he'll_ be fun to deal with."

"He's full of shit," Squall remarked simply, watching the ranting and raving man on the podium.

"Give him a break, the man's daughter just died. I'd be freaking out too."

"It's not that. He's using her. He's using his daughter to boost his fucking ratings," Squall said disgustedly. "Sure, he's plenty upset about it, but he's a government man to the core."

Rinoa shook her head. "I really hope you're wrong, Squall. Because that would just be a pain in the ass."

"Politicians _are _a pain in the ass," Squall muttered. "There, he's done gasbagging, let's get moving."

Ronald had stepped down from the podium and was surrounded by his entourage of bodyguards and assistants. Squall flashed his badge with a flick of the wrist and said, "I'm Lieutenant Leonhart, and that's Detective Heartilly. Got a minute?"

Dooley narrowed his eyes and his companions fell silent. "You're the police."

Squall let his breath slowly hiss out impatiently. "…Yes…"

Ronald immediately erupted in anger. "My daughter's been dead for _twelve hours_ and I haven't gotten a thing! I demand a full report on what you've done to investigate this injustice. It's my right."

"Actually, it's _not _your right, and you'll get a report when the BPD's ready to give it." The words flew out before Squall had the opportunity to censor himself. Rinoa stopped herself from wincing.

An enormous man with an earpiece cut in. "Lieutenant, you're talking to the vice president of Balamb," he informed Squall menacingly.

"I realize that. He's also the father of a girl who's dead, which is my main concern. I need your whereabouts from yesterday, from 9 to 11 PM."

The vice president transformed from parrot to puffer fish as he reddened and ballooned. An assistant immediately stepped in front of the outraged politician. "Lieutenant, this is an outrage. To suggest that this man could be capable of killing his own flesh and blood…preposterous, just preposterous," the assistant said sternly.

Squall raised an eyebrow. "What's your name?"

"Malcolm Brennen…why?"

"Alright, Malcolm Brennen. Can you confirm Dooley's alibi, if he has one?"

Brennen bristled. "Of course. He was at his home, with his wife and son. They'll surely confirm that for you as well."

"Let's hope so." Squall jerked his chin at the vice president. "Don't leave town anytime soon, I'll be sure to get you that report sometime soon."

Dooley's color was slowly turning back to normal. "I see. And in the meantime, do you have any superiors that I can report your insubordination to?"

Rinoa was about to speak and try to undo some of the damage, but Squall responded pleasantly, "That would be Quistis Trepe, Chief of Police over in the BPD. I'm sure she'd love to deal with it. I'll be in touch."

As they headed to the car, Rinoa hissed, "_What was that for_? He's the _vice president_! He could actually get you fired, you know!"

Squall snorted. "Please. Ever since we closed the Doyle case, I've got job offers from here to Galbadia."

Rinoa stopped in her tracks. "_I _don't," she said hotly.

Squall stopped too, a bit awkwardly. He wasn't very used to this whole "team" thing that came with being in a relationship _and _a police partnership. He had always been accustomed to looking out for his own interests, but that didn't seem to be what his life was about now.

"You can't keep up the risk of getting fired, because I'll don't know what I'll do if you leave," she insisted. "What would I do then, huh?"

"You're not helpless, you know," he pointed out.

"I know. But I know that I'm a better cop when you're around, and I personally like having you here with me. So why don't we leave it at that? Do you have to butt heads with _every _authority figure you meet?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Only the annoying ones. You know, I kind of like it when you bitch at me. It gives me a nice fuzzy feeling inside." He gave her ponytail an uncharacteristically playful tug.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

"Hope we didn't come at a bad time, Addy." Squall remarked from the doorframe of his preferred attorney's office.

That, in Rinoa's opinion, wasn't even worth saying. Addison Banks looked absolutely bogged down at her desk, surrounded by mounds of folders, papers, and half-empty takeout cartons. But she looked invigorated, almost happy.

"Well, I might as well squeeze you in, I work better under pressure anyway," she said breezily and folded her hands in her lap. "What's going on?"

Squall gestured at her cluttered workspace. "I'm going to have to drag you away from all this." He smirked at the horrified look he got in response. He and Addison were very alike in that respect – work was a part of their personality. "Shouldn't take you too long. I've got a new case I want you to take up."

"Does it look like I'm in the position to take one?" Addy said exasperatedly, then sighed, realizing that "no" wasn't an option when it came to Squall. "Prosecution, right?"

"No, it's defense. Yeah, it's unusual, I know. I just need you to buy me time until I can find the real perpetrator." _You would not believe how much is riding on this_, Squall added silently.

Addison brushed her thick black hair off her forehead. "What's the financial situation?"

Squall paused. With MacGill, he could never really tell. The man literally bounced from well-off to near-destitute, and Squall never bothered to keep track anymore. "I probably couldn't tell you, it varies all the time," he confessed.

Addison pointed a pen at him. "I am _not _doing this for free, we clear?"

"I know better than that. There's a bit of a twist, though. The victim is Vice President Dooley's daughter."

"And Dooley's probably got a whole army of pricey lawyers," Rinoa piped up.

Addy wrinkled her nose. "That's never good," was all she said.

"You think you can handle it?" Squall asked.

Addison shot him her characteristic, shark-like smile. "I thought you knew better."

* * *

"Shouldn't we have asked somebody else?" Rinoa murmured to Squall as they walked down the detox hallway, Addison busy yelling at someone over her cell phone. "She's definitely got too much on her plate."

"She's the best," Squall said simply. "She kicked ass on the Doyle case, and she can do it again for MacGill."

"That was prosecution, though," Rinoa pointed out as Addy yelled something about a case being "down the goddamn toilet" to a very unfortunate business associate.

"You're not usually this doubtful," he remarked, giving her an interested look.

"That's because we're walking on really thin ice with this case," she answered. "Besides, you're always telling me that I need to be more serious."

"Yeah, but this is scaring me." He raised an eyebrow when Addison snapped the phone shut. "Sure it's not a bad time?" he said to her.

"Nothing I can't take care of," she replied brusquely. "Alright, then, is this the room?"

"Yeah. I'm going with you; he can get a bit intense at times." Squall motioned for Rinoa to follow him, and they all opened the door to Room 354.

If MacGill had been looking bad the day before, he looked even worse now. Even his many tattoos seemed to be paler, and he was visibly losing weight. It seemed like drugs had been the only things holding him up. Rinoa caught the almost-imperceptible twitch of horror in Squall's face and touched his waist reassuringly.

"Hey," MacGill said faintly. "Whatcha doin' here? 'S not visiting hours or whatever." He sounded half-asleep.

"This isn't a visit. I've brought you a lawyer."

"Damn, and here I thought you were bringing me a soda. I'm _kidding_," he said when Squall looked at him strangely.

"Addy's a really good lawyer, Ian," Rinoa said soothingly. "So you need to tell her the truth about everything, okay?"

Ian's nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. If there was another class of people that he distrusted more than cops, it was lawyers. "I mean, if I really _have _to…"

"Hey," Squall reprimanded softly. "Don't act up. Or else it'll be me instead of her, and I'm not in the greatest of moods."

"Are you ever? Fine," MacGill grumbled. He spread his arms as wide as the handcuffs and cast would allow. "Fire away."

"The Lieutenant's already given me a rundown," Addison began. "Of the drugs you were under the influence of, et cetera. Now why don't you give me a summary of how your day was?" She jerked a thumb at the door, her way of shooing Squall and Rinoa out.

"If you mess around, I'll know," Squall called over his shoulder.

"I'm not _five_, Leonhart!" Ian retorted as the door slammed shut.

"Could have fooled me," Squall muttered as he leaned against the wall. When he saw the grimy linoleum tiles, he decided against it.

Rinoa laughed at his sour face. "Don't try to hide it, you are _so _worried about him!"

Squall just made a face at her. "He's going to give Addison hell, I just know it. And if he wants to get out of jail custody, he _needs _to pull this off. So yeah, I'm a little concerned."

"MacGill can be plenty cooperative, you know," she informed him. "You just need to chill, as always."

"Hey, I'm plenty chill." He made another face as he realized that the sentence didn't sound the way he'd hoped.

"Hmm. Yeah. Okay," Rinoa droned in her boyfriend's dull monotone. "And what if this _doesn't_ get him out of jail custody?"

"Then we fight it out. As usual. But this time we have to fight out the legal bullshit _while_ finding the person who actually killed off Dooley's kid."

"I think we're going to need Seifer's help," Rinoa pointed out.

"I'm going to pretend that you didn't just say that. Want to go find me a coffee?" he asked hopefully.

She clasped her hands to her heart melodramatically. "Oh, _do _I!" Then she scowled at him before going on the coffee hunt, because she didn't think she'd mind a coffee either.

As soon as Rinoa turned the corner, Addison emerged from MacGill's room, straightened her blouse and stood opposite Squall. "I like him," she informed him.

Squall paused, then shrugged. He looked like a juvenile delinquent, slouching against a dirty wall, his legs rigid and straight. "Not what I was expecting, but go on."

"His case is a different story, though," she said, frowning. "I don't think he's lying, but he's very foggy on the details. Wouldn't make for a solid case. I'll need to see more evidence."

Squall exhaled and kicked at the floor. "Two security tapes. One's of the elevator, it shows him getting off near the time of the murder and never coming down. The other's of the stairs, which never shows him at all. I'll get them to you by tomorrow."

Addison's frown grew deeper. "I don't think this case would be worth taking, at the present, not under the present circumstances," she said bluntly.

"Addison, don't make me beg."

"A couple of days in jail won't kill him. You just need to work fast. There's not much I can do to help him."

Squall looked heavenward, and then looked back down at her. "Addison, he's my best friend. Leaving him to rot in custody…it's not an option."

She turned away. "You don't have many. I'd suggest that you take it."

He clenched his fist in frustration. "Is it the money, is that it? He told you he was broke, didn't he?" he demanded.

She gazed at him coolly. "I've got a boatload of other clients, with better cases. Paying clients. Why should I take time away from them for a man who can't pay me, and who might have actually committed the crime?" she shot right back at him. "_Other _than the fact that he's your bosom buddy?"

"You'd let an innocent man go to death row because he couldn't cough up?" He advanced towards her, eyes blazing. "And you'd still sleep at night?" It wasn't like him to make it all come down to morals. He was only doing it because he felt…well, _hurt_. He'd considered Addison a friend, or at least an invaluable ally. He had depended on her.

Her eyes were still flat, shark-like. "Don't start with me. I'm sorry about your friend, I am. So get a public defender and find the person who did this to that girl." As she walked away, she picked up where she had left off, digging out her cell to bark angrily at someone else.

Squall kicked at the floor again, leaving a wedge-shaped black smudge. He sighed, then pushed the door open to MacGill's room. MacGill exploded as soon as Squall came in. "I was _so _nice, you know. I deserve an award," he announced. "She _loved _me."

"Well, not too much," Squall said bitterly. "She's not taking your case."

"…Oh." Ian's shoulders sagged, but then he perked up again. "Well, it's okay. We can just get _another _one. Right?"

"You're pretty cheerful for somebody who's detoxing," Squall remarked.

"Hey, why not? I've got the best and the brightest on my side, right? Well, not that Banks lady, I guess. But still, I'm pretty damn lucky, you know?"

Squall put his head in his hands. He _hated _being relied on. "Ian, it's more complicated than that. With public defenders…you get what you pay for. You know how hard it is to find one that actually gives a shit?"

Ian's newfound liveliness was draining faster than bathwater. "You…still think I have a chance?" he said faintly.

"I don't know. I don't even know."

Ian jerked upright, glaring. "The hell is the matter with you? Since when do you say '_I don't know_'? Stop treating me like I'm your friend! You know, when you're working for _other_ people, you don't sit around and bitch, you get out there and kick ass! Why aren't you doing _that_?"

Their tempers reacted violently, like fire and hydrogen. But Squall knew from experience that yelling at MacGill would only dig a deeper hole. "Look, you've fucked yourself over big time, alright? I'm just trying to get you out of this while keeping my job at the same time," he explained calmly, as if talking to a three-year old.

"Keeping your _job_? That's fucking terrific. I'm going to jail, but hey, at least you get to keep your job." Ian stared at the wall in disgust.

"Shut up. Shut the hell up. If you hadn't gotten so plastered that night, you'd be out of this by now. I really wish you'd fucking grow up," Squall snapped.

"Yeah, I screwed up. Now why don't you stop whining about how much I screwed up, and do the job that you're so anxious to keep?" Ian challenged, his eyes narrowed with purpose.

Stubborn as he was, Squall knew when he had been beaten. "I'll be back later," he informed him tersely and stalked out into the hallway.

Rinoa was waiting there with a bright green can in hand. "Um, they didn't actually have coffee. Well, they did, but it was decaf, and I know that's not your thing. So I got," she squinted to read the bright label emblazoned on the can. "…'Volt Energy Drink'." She shrugged and handed it to him. "Should be alright, I guess."

He considered it, then took a swig. He was immediately sent reeling by the explosion of sugar that hit him like a slap to the face. "Oh…my God…" he managed to say, his eyes squeezing shut almost by reflex.

Rinoa smiled sympathetically. "Well, at least it should keep you awake, right? Alright, so what's the deal? Where'd Addison go?"

Squall was still shivering with disgust, but took another sip anyway. "She's kind of outta the picture."

Rinoa's eyes bugged out. "And when exactly did that happen?" she demanded shrilly.

"Ian can't pay her, and she thinks that his case isn't worth it yet," he continued flatly. "This stuff isn't too bad after the first five swallows or so," he added conversationally.

"Um, hello? We don't have a lawyer anymore."

"We don't have a _good _lawyer anymore," Squall pointed out. He was feeling unusually calm, considering that he had been raging at his best friend a moment before. "But we have one, and we'll need to make the best of it somehow."

"Alright, you're really freaking me out," she told him. "You're starting to act like _me_."

"Not true. You're the one that whines all the time. We need to get back. I need more evidence if we want a case." Something (probably the caffeine) about the prospect of work was actually exciting him, and it showed. He would do his job, like Ian had told him, and he would make things right. Such a sense of _purpose_ hadn't struck him in quite a while.

Rinoa noted Squall's stride with horror. "No, really. You look _cheerful_."

"Hey, I'm a cheerful guy."

_Volt Energy Drink_, Rinoa thought, _where have you been all my life?

* * *

_

Squall wasn't feeling like such a cheerful guy three hours later, when the inevitable caffeine crash weighed him down like an anchor. Rinoa was left glaring at him as he sat inert, facedown with his forehead resting on the desk.

"Wake _up_," she groaned, putting her head on her arms so her face was down to his level. "You're starting to make _me _tired."

"Mmmpph," was the response, coming from the shock of brown hair.

Rinoa sighed loudly as she dropped all of Ian's files and evidence from the case in front of him, where it hit with a loud thud. The impact failed to compel Squall to move. "Going through all this _by myself _was definitely _not _the plan," she said hotly.

When that didn't work, she decided to play dirty. "If you don't get up right now, I'm going to call you Squally-poo…in front of _everyone_," she whispered in his ear, smiling mischievously.

Squall shuddered and dragged his head up. "Alright, where were we?"

Rinoa stood up and dragged her coat off the chair. "Going home. It's late, and falling asleep on the job isn't going to help MacGill at all, so let's go."

"I'll be fine when I get some _actual _coffee," Squall grumbled, but he got up too. "This is ridiculous. It's been two days, and I haven't gotten jackshit."

"Yeah, I'm sure that _not _being an overachiever is really burning your ass right now, Leonhart," Seifer piped up as he passed the two.

"Bite me."

"You wish. Just so you know, I actually did something constructive today." Seifer couldn't look more pleased about showing Squall up. "The Dooley girl had a boyfriend. And guess what? Left town this morning. Sketch, right?"

"Yeah, definitely," Squall muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Got a name?"

"Dorian James. We're tracking his credit card. Nighty night, Leonhart, the big boys'll take care of this," Seifer taunted, smirking.

Squall's face tightened with anger as he prepared to confront Seifer yet again, but Rinoa gripped his wrist and hissed, "_We're going_," in his ear. She practically had to drag him out the door.

"_Damn_, Leonhart's on a leash!" Seifer crowed to a chorus of hooting laughter.

"They don't mean anything by it," Rinoa told him as they walked to their car. "You're not going to drop of exhaustion just because Seifer was being an ass. It's not a contest."

"I didn't say it was a contest," Squall responded, his voice laced with bitterness. "People don't take me seriously anymore. Ever since…" Squall's voice dropped in the middle of his sentence. He slammed the car door shut instead. "Whatever. Let's go."

Rinoa wasn't so easily deterred. "Ever since _what_?" she demanded, turning in her seat to stare at him.

Squall still didn't answer, just yanked the gear shift with an unnecessary violence.

Her eyes widened angrily as she realized what he meant. "Ever since _me_?" Her voice cracked on the "me".

"_Forget it_," he said through grit teeth.

"This is your way of saying that it's over, isn't it? God, _God!_" she yelled, burying her fist in her hair.

"That's not what I said!"

"But it's what you mean!"

"Stop putting fucking words in my mouth!"

They fought all through the ride home, yelled at each other as they unlocked the front door, and by the time they reached their room, Rinoa was in tears and Squall was about ready to kick something.

"Why do we do this? All we do is fight!" she cried from her side of the room. "_Why_?"

He pointed at her accusingly after he pulled off his shirt. "I _told _you that we were too different. _You _were the one who said that it didn't matter, and now look where we are." He threw the shirt on the ground and shut himself in the bathroom to take a shower.

"It doesn't matter that we're different, it's that you keep picking fights!" she shouted through the bathroom door.

"_You _picked this fight!"

Rinoa fiercely wiped the tears and smeared makeup off her face with the back of her hand. They always ended up here, and they would go to bed angry, and the atmosphere would be unbearably tense in the morning. She was surprised that she wasn't used to it by now.

Squall always took cold showers when he was angry. It gave him the sensation of cooling down, literally. Fights with Rinoa would always ruin his night, and most of the next day.

He heard the bathroom door open slowly. "Squall."

"Yeah," he answered, bracing himself for another fight.

"Do you really want to break up?" she asked softly, pressing her fingertips to the fogged glass of the shower door. Squall's blurred form was motionless on the other side.

"Do you?" he asked back, his voice barely audible over the spray of the shower.

"No," she admitted. "But I think you deserve to be happy, and I don't think I'm doing too well when it comes to that."

Squall blinked cold water out of his eyes. "I don't really think it's your fault."

"And I didn't really mean the things that I said. I was just sort of angry."

"I know."

He heard the soft sounds of her clothes hitting the floor. The shower door slid open and she stepped in. He felt her arms wrap around his neck as she stood behind him. It was an awkward position, seeing as he was about a head taller than her.

"Well, you know," she whispered. "They say that opposites attract."

"That's magnets," he told her. "There really is no reason as to why the two of us get along, but we do anyway."

"Are you saying that you actually want a reason?" she asked, smiling. Her hands moved to his waist. "Oh, and by the way, what is with this freakishly cold water?"

"I like my showers freakishly cold," he replied, taking her hand and moving it to where his leg met his hip. "And of course I want a reason. I'm a cop."

"You use that as an excuse for everything," she reprimanded, tickling the spot where he had placed her hand.

He jumped and yelped. "Ahh! Okay, stop. Seriously." When she didn't, he spun around, picked her up, and pinned her against the cold, wet tiles of the wall.

"Um," she said, giggling. "Put me down."

"Hmm, maybe I won't," he husked in her ear. He reached out and twisted the shower knob all the way to the left. The icy water was immediately replaced as the hot spray steamed up the shower. "I think I kind of like this."

"Shower makeup sex?" she asked, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist so as not to fall.

"Yeah," he answered, pressing her harder against the wall. "Not terribly original, I know."

Rinoa grinned. Squall was a somewhat awkward and self-conscious lover, but it wasn't showing in his amorously darkened eyes. "Can't say that I mind."

As Balamb's top detectives blew off steam in the shower, the killer that they were in pursuit of devised the next step in the master plan.

* * *

Sorry it took so long.

-peridotaurora


End file.
